Kindle the Flame (Heart of a Dragon Book 1) (17 page)

T
here was
unusual bustle about the palace when Cedric entered the building to prepare for the evening meal. He closed the heavy oak door and stripped off his clothes, tossing them onto a nearby chair. The copper bathing tub was already brimming with steaming water. He lowered his body into it with a sigh.

His page stepped forward from his post by the door and bowed. “My lord, emissaries have arrived from the various regions of West Ashwynd—the Dimn and their creatures. King Sebastian has invited them to stay in the palace until the Tournament.”

“I see.” Cedric drew his rag across his arm and shoulder, rubbing away oil and sweat.

“They will be at dinner tonight, my lord. The King has instructed that you are to dress the part.”

Cedric sighed. He never understood Sebastian's whims, but thus far, he had bowed to them without question.

He feared there would come a day when he couldn't concede so easily. He hurried his movements and dressed himself in the fine linen tunic that hung over his chair. As the material slipped over his skin, he wished for the thousandth time for his cave in the Rockmonster Dwellings with Shaya's soft stories.

Cedric arrived at the banquet hall in the company of Natan and Jack-Boy. Natan was in the midst of telling an amusing story of Gustav's discomfiture after the morning's workout, but his words abruptly died as the doors swung open and the three entered.

Sebastian was already seated at the head of the table. Musicians strummed their lutes in the shadows; the table was piled high with turkey, roast venison, and wild boar. Fruits from the palace hot-houses were heaped in bowls, and wine had already been poured into the goblets.

Cedric recognized none of the guests but the King and Lanier, Sebastian's head general. The steward bowed to Cedric as he hurried to the head table near Sebastian. He motioned Jack-Boy and Natan to follow him, but unease stirred in his stomach at the King's expression. Sebastian picked up a grape and chewed on it thoughtfully.

“Why so late, Dragon-Master?”

“Nay, Your Grace. I am no later than the normal time, but you seem to have gathered everyone else early.”

“Aye. They were hungry.” He glanced at Natan and Jack-Boy. “And who are these?”

“Two of my Dimn, Your Grace. They excelled at an extremely difficult training session with the new Ember today. I gave them leave to eat at your table this evening as a reward.”

Sebastian dug his fingers into the greasy thigh of the boar on his trencher and pulled off a hunk of meat, chewing on it as he regarded the two boys. He motioned to his steward. “Seat these two at the end of the hall, Pomley.”

The steward bowed and motioned for the boys to follow him.

Cedric was furious. “Your Grace, you yourself instructed me to issue invitations to your table when a Dimn has done well. These two—”

“You forget yourself,
boy
.” Sebastian fully faced him. His eyes flashed fire beneath his thick, dark eyebrows. “As you can see, we have many guests, far beyond a normal evening's meal. Palace Dimn are not welcome at high occasions. Lest you forget, this is
my
table,
my
palace,
my
kingdom. You, Dragon-Master, are here on
my
gracious whim.”

Cedric's jaw cramped, but he bowed in submission. “As Your Grace commands.”

Sebastian leaned back against his chair as Cedric sat down next to him at the head table. “You haven't met any of my new guests this evening, Cedric, but allow me to introduce you to my most honored.” He motioned to his other side, and Cedric leaned forward to see around the King.

A beauty with white-blonde hair and cobalt blue eyes smiled brilliantly at him. “I am pleased to meet you, my lord.” Her voice was clear and fluid, like musical notes that floated on a spring breeze.

Cedric promptly knocked over his wine goblet, sloshing red liquid across the table. He snatched it up, soaking the sleeve of his white tunic. A curse left his lips, and he flushed in embarrassment. “A—a—and you as well, my lady,” Cedric stuttered. He lost himself in her blue gaze. “I beg your pardon, I don't know why I'm so clumsy this evening.”

A page arrived at the table and blotted up the spill with a cloth, using another one to dab at Cedric's sleeve.

“'Tis no matter, my lord.”

Cedric blinked at her, vaguely aware of a grin of delight on his own face. His heart thudded in his ears. “Might I ask your name?”

Sebastian had been watching this exchange, his beard camouflaging his amused smile. “You should beware, Cedric, lest I turn you into my jester.” Sebastian motioned to the lady. “It does me great honor to introduce you to the niece of Nicholas Erlane of Lismaria,” he paused as he turned back to Cedric and smoothed the corners of his mustache, “and my future wife. Cedric, the Lady Lianna.”

Cedric was momentarily struck dumb. He managed a weak smile. “I'm sorry, Your Grace. You are betrothed?”

“Aye. The settlement has only just been reached. Our nuptials will take place in the spring.”

Cedric nodded. The spring. The time the King had set aside for the Tournament. “So Your Grace will not hold the—”

“The spring is the time settled between Nicholas Erlane and myself in lieu of impending battle. Join me, Cedric, in celebrating the felicity of this occasion.” He raised his glass, and Cedric stared at him as he tipped it back.

Cedric grasped the new goblet that had been set in front of him and lifted it to his own lips, sipping the bitter liquid. It burned his throat and churned in his stomach. He cast his eyes away from Lianna and studied the rest of the emissaries instead.

Why the King did not wish the Lady Lianna to know of the Tournament, the great competition where he chose his best and bravest creatures for warfare, he could not be certain. But he had a dark premonition.

S
ebastian swept
into the chamber where Lanier and his other top generals awaited him. His gaze rested on Cedric.

“Ah, young Cedric. I see you received my message.”

The auburn-haired boy bowed. “Aye, Your Grace.”

“Are your Dimn working in the fields without you then?”

“Aye, Your Grace.”

“And how is that coming?” Sebastian sank into a high-backed wooden chair and spread his hands on the table in front of him. The rest of the men sat as well.

Cedric flushed. “The Dragons are taming, Your Grace. There seem to be some connections developing between the beasts and a few of the Dimn. However, I did wonder...”

Sebastian waited, anticipating the words that Cedric struggled to shape. He would not help the boy.

Cedric glanced toward the door. “With the Lady Lianna's visit and your impending nuptials, I wondered if ... your plans had changed.”

Sebastian did not drop his gaze from the boy's face. “All plans remain the same, isn't that right, Lanier?”

The General nodded. “Come spring, Your Grace, we will begin moving our armies.”

Cedric's eyes glinted. “But, Your Grace, if your marriage to Lady Lianna is meant to bring peace between West Ashwynd and Lismaria, then it would be deceitful—”

“Young Dragon-Master.” Sebastian stood, towering over the others. “Finish that sentence, I dare you.”

Cedric held his gaze, and Sebastian read the innocence in his eyes. The boy honestly didn't
know
the politics of war. Beneath the boy's clear-eyed gaze, however, a challenge burned.

Cedric opened his mouth, but at that moment, the subject of their contention entered the room. The men stood once again, bowing deeply as Lianna crossed the stone floor to the seat Sebastian had left empty for her.

Sebastian watched her approach, filled with appreciation for her lithe form and exquisite face. She was a beauty. Though hardly more than a girl at the tender age of sixteen, her endowments would make her a fine mother to birth him many heirs. She was fairer than Olivia, and a scant few years younger than his Queen had been when she'd died birthing his son.

His heart twisted inside him at the thought.

He held out his hand to Lianna and kissed the top of hers when she offered it. “Good morning, my lady.” He smiled into her blue eyes as he straightened. “You find us discussing dull political peace treaties this morning.”

“Dull or no, I'm glad to be a part of it, Your Grace.” Her gaze swept the circle, pausing on young Cedric. Sebastian's mouth tightened.

“Aye, my lady, as am I. You are a deeper part of it than perhaps even you are aware.” He returned to his seat. The rest of his men reseated themselves as well, and Sebastian turned his mind to the meeting with his generals and his plan to lure Nicholas Erlane into a false sense of tentative peace.

S
elena waited
for him in his chambers when he returned from the Council. After their passion had abated, Selena's slim fingers massaged his neck as he lay face down across the bed. “What troubles you, Sebastian?” she asked, her low words soothing to his ears, her touch a balm to his tight muscles. “What can I do to help you?”

“Nay, your presence here is soothing to me, Selena.”

His words pleased her; her hands splayed across his shoulder blades, working at the tension knots. “Speak to me, Sebastian. Tell me things you tell no one else.”

He rolled to his side, propping his head up on a fist. His free hand smoothed a strand of hair behind her ear. “And what shall I say, sweet one? That I am an ambitious man? That, you already know—you and half of the known world. That I am deceitful? That I am power-hungry and driven by my own demons?”

Her large, dark eyes watched him, silent, intent, reaching beyond his words to see what lay inside his heart. Moments like these gnawed on the edges of his nerves, threatening his inner sense of calm. When he was most vulnerable, he could feel her prodding, seeking a break in his fortress.

Sebastian traced his finger through the fine furs. “You never knew Liam. He was my elder by three years—first in everything, in our parents' affections, in physical prowess, in line to the throne, in line to Olivia's heart.”

Selena's dark eyes pierced him; he felt the jealous burn of her gaze.

Sebastian abruptly sat up, gripping her upper arm hard, his eyes narrowing. She squirmed beneath his vise-like hold. He ignored her discomfort. “What is it you want from me, Selena? A declaration of my love? An offer to share my crown?”

Her breath came in short, panting gasps. “N—no, Your Grace. I wouldn’t—”

“No, you wouldn't. Because it will never happen.” He released her arm, leaving a band of white, abused skin, and leaned closer to her. “You are what you are to me, and you will never be more. That will never change. It isn't the way of royals.” He pressed his lips lightly to hers, trailing his kisses toward her ear, whispering the words he knew would pierce her armored emotions and spread slow, agonizing mental torture. “Come spring, I will wed the niece of Nicholas Erlane, and I will bring her to this bed to fill her with my progeny, so that someday, she may birth the future King. Never fear, though, Selena, I won't forget you.”

Tears sprouted in her eyes, breaking from their rims, rolling downward along the smooth temples into her mahogany hair spread across the pillows. He wiped the droplets gently with his thumbs, half surprised when she rolled from his bed, her gaze turned from his. “I—must retire, Your Grace. Do you require anything more?”

Sebastian watched the emotions march their mournful dirge across her face. “Nay, not at the moment, but come to me tonight.”

She made no answer. As she turned away, though, he saw two bright, glistening teardrops depart from her cheeks and color the gray stone floor in black pools of pain.

“
T
he
psuches
are ready
, Your Grace,” Sebastian's steward bowed before the throne where the King sat, “if Your Grace is ready to review them.”

Sebastian nodded. “Aye. Let's have them enter one at a time. How many are there again?”

“Three from each creature group, Your Grace.”

“Which brings the total to forty-eight
psuches
.” Sebastian stroked his beard, watching his hopes of an afternoon of viewing the Dragons disappear from sight.

“'It would be fifty-one, Your Grace, if you have made the decision to attempt Rockmonsters this year.”

Sebastian glanced at his steward and shook his head. “Nay, the creatures are worse than Trolls and Goblins to control. I have no desire to take on such a task.”

“They could be invaluable to your cause, Your Grace.”

Sebastian cast a withering stare at his steward. “Thank you, Pomley. I will be sure and share your words of wisdom at the next council of war, and will also explain to all my generals why your opinion should be given so much more weight than their opinions, which, incidentally, are all opposed to the idea of bringing the Rockmonsters onto our roster of creatures.”

Pomley cast his eyes to the floor. “Very good, Your Grace. I will show in the
psuches
now if it please you.”

“It does please me, but send them in one Clan at a time. It will take far too long to interview each Dimn separately.”

“Aye, Your Grace.” Pomley bowed and hurried toward the door.

“And ask the Lady Lianna if she will consent to tour the Tournament fields with me afterward,” he called after his fleeing steward.

Moments later, three figures darkened the doorway, striding across the lengthy room until they bowed before Sebastian.

Sebastian eyed them. One was a maid, two were tall lads, all of them were young.

Sebastian nodded graciously. “Welcome to my court. From which Clan do you hail?”

The lad in the middle spoke. “From the Pixies, Your Grace.”

“Ah, some of my favorite creatures. Tell me your names.”

From left to right they introduced themselves. Chen, Julian, and Lena. Sebastian kept his smile pleasant, though his thoughts tumbled darkly inside of him. If this was a representation of what he could expect in his armies, his military was indeed in trouble. Young and energetic they undoubtedly were, and perhaps they were masters in their connection with their Pixies. But none of them looked to have the capacity within them to heft a battle axe or to wield a heavy shield.

He already had a thousand Pixies who served in his armies, conscripted over the course of several years, but he had never required
psuche
of their particular Clan before he placed them among his ranks. He had hoped that this year, he could find a leader of the Pixies from the Clan itself instead of shuffling them all beneath the supervision of various generals unknown to the creatures.

The question left his lips before he could reconsider. “Could any of you fight in battle and not die on the first day out?”

The three glanced at one another. Then the tall boy in the middle spoke. “Your Grace, the strength of the Pixies lies in the magic of their words and their songs. Yes, we could fight in hand-to-hand combat, and perhaps even live to tell the tale. But you have asked us here to test the strength of our natural abilities in the Tournament this spring. We will not disappoint.”

Sebastian settled back into his chair, his eyes raking the tall lad from head to toe—Julian, he had said.

“You are prepared to take your Pixies against some of the greater beasts? Mammoths, perhaps, or Dragons?”

Julian inclined his head. “I believe our Pixies will more than show their worth at this year's Tournament, Your Grace.”

Sebastian let the silence fall. The other two
psuches
twitched nervously. Julian was the only one who eyed him without flinching. Sebastian stared back, nodding slowly.

“I look forward to it. In the meantime, please make yourself comfortable in my palace. The Tournament fields are open for your use to practice as you see fit. My steward will take care of any needs that may arise. I look forward to spending the next few months with you until spring.”

Pomley hurried forward at Sebastian's motion and showed the three Pixiedimn to a side entrance before scurrying to let in the next representation, these from the Direwolves. Sebastian settled himself in for a long morning even while his mind wandered.

The fair Lady Lianna would wish to meet before too long. As each new group presented themselves before him, he kept the meetings shorter and shorter.

When the three
psuches
from the Dryads giggled their way out the door—maidens, all—he stood and tossed his empty wine goblet to a page. “I shall retire to the Tournament fields with the Lady Lianna. I am not to be disturbed there.”

“Aye, Your Grace.” Pomley bowed. “She awaits you on the terrace.”

L
ianna's
usual elaborate plaits were missing when Sebastian stepped onto the terrace. Instead, her brilliant white-gold hair hung loose in heavy waves across her shoulders, moving and lifting in the cold afternoon breeze that swept in from the Channel of Lise.

“Good afternoon, my lady.” Sebastian bowed over her gloved hand.

“Good afternoon, Your Grace.” Her reply was listless and dull. She did not smile, and her eyes shone with a suspicious mist.

“Is everything well?” He would have Pomley's head if she had found anything lacking within his palace, or if she had discovered his plans regarding her uncle. It was the fool's responsibility to keep her well clear of any such news.

“Aye, Your Grace. More than well. You've been very kind.”

“Then what troubles you?” He tucked her arm into the crook of his elbow, and led her gently forward to the staircase that descended to the Tournament fields beyond.

“Only a mere touch of homesickness.”

“Is it so very different here?” Sebastian lowered his voice, his eyes trained on her profile. Indeed, she was strikingly fair. “It will pass soon, I hope, my lady. Perhaps we can plan a wedding trip back to Lismaria, should you wish it.”

She glanced up at his face, her blue eyes piercing him. “Your Grace is very kind.”

It was the second time she had said that, and Sebastian stifled the desire to laugh in disbelief. “Kind” was a word that few would use for him. No matter. Best to let her think what she would. The more Nicholas Erlane heard of her happiness, the less the maps of war would clutter his Council table, and the greater his surprise when Sebastian's armies invaded his strongholds.

Some of the
psuches
roamed the various arena fields, while others were already putting their creatures through their paces. The Mammoths had the field to their left. The great beasts lumbered across the pitches, their trunks swinging heavily as their Dimn shouted directions at them.

“Does everyone in West Ashwynd belong to a Clan, Your Grace?”

Lianna's quiet voice cut through Sebastian's wandering thoughts. “Aye, my lady. 'Tis the law.”

“What of visitors to your country? Should they decide to stay, would they be required to take up allegiance to a Clan?”

“Aye, my lady.” He turned to smile at her, tucking her hand more securely into his elbow. “But we do not require it the first day. You will have plenty of time to make your choice, to see what feels the best to you.”

Her smile was wide and full, her lips a deep shade of red that had no hint of unnatural stain to increase the color. It was a mouth that was made to be kissed. He wondered what she would do should he attempt it.

He stopped walking, preparing to turn her to face him, but her eyes were locked on something in the distance. He followed the direction of her gaze. “What is it?”

“Are those the Dragons, Your Grace?”

Far ahead, the great beasts flapped about in their fields. The Dimn dodged, danced, dove to direct their creatures.

“Aye, my lady.”

“Please, I should like to watch them. They fascinate me.”

Sebastian felt himself sink beneath the power of her blue gaze. “As you wish, my lady.”

They had taken only a few steps when she spoke again. “Who is the Dragon-Master, Your Grace?”